


the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

by ahtohallan_calling



Series: litotwccwu [2]
Category: Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff, but also some of the steps along the way that got cut, here lies (parts of) the happy ever after
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:02:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21982621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahtohallan_calling/pseuds/ahtohallan_calling
Summary: A collection of one-shots set during/after "love is the only thing we can carry with us".
Relationships: Anna/Kristoff (Disney), Elsa & Kristoff (Disney)
Series: litotwccwu [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1582414
Comments: 36
Kudos: 86





	1. night terrors

**Author's Note:**

> A snippet of Elsa's POV between chapters 21 and 22. Thank you kristoffxannafanatic for the idea, sorry that this is probably a lot angstier than what you actually had in mind :')

“Please don’t let him-- I’m so _hot_ I can’t breathe-- I don’t want to go, please--”

“You’re okay, Anna,” Elsa says, desperation creeping into her tone as she tries to calm her sister; it has been nearly three days since she fell headlong into the depths of this fever, and still she has shown no signs of escaping. She slept most of the morning but has jolted upright now, only half-awake as she battles with the choking grasp of another fevered nightmare.

Elsa tries to squeeze her hand, but Anna jerks away as if the touch pains her. “No-- please-- don’t make me--”

“I’m sorry, you’re okay, just-- just drink some more water, here--”

Elsa holds the cup to her sister’s cracked lips, tilting it for her; Anna drinks greedily, but still half of it drips down her front, soaking the blue sweater she cannot stand to be without. “I’m sorry,” Elsa gasps again, tears of frustration and fear beginning to leak from the corners of her eyes, and then all at once Kristoff is there and she is backing away, standing in the corner of the room with shaking hands as he takes over once again, knowing, as he somehow always does, the right thing to do.

He cradles Anna against his chest, brushing sweat-heavy strands of hair off her forehead and murmuring words of comfort that Elsa can’t quite hear; she doesn’t want to, anyway. This is a private moment, and without quite realizing it she has become an intruder in her own home, but still she watches, transfixed by the way Anna clings to him, even in her delirium, until at last her breathing evens out and she drops back into sleep. 

Kristoff lowers her gently back onto the pillow then, bows over her and presses a kiss to her forehead, lingering there for a long moment, and she thinks _how can anyone bear this?_

She hadn’t meant to say it aloud, but she has anyway, the words slipping out like water leaking through cupped palms. When he responds, his voice is soft, but the words still land like blows against bruised flesh.

“I can’t. But I have to try anyway.”

She feels caged somehow, less a woman than a bundle of wild things all aching to be freed, rage and terror and grief and gratitude. “She would stand at this window every morning. I caught her a few times. Just looking north, like she expected to see you coming down the road any moment.”

Even from across the room, she can see him flinch. She continues anyway, the unplanned words spilling out so fast she feels as if she is unraveling, a ball of yarn rolling and rolling until it will fall apart into nothing. “And she’d never come to dinner, just come in here and lie on the bed with that sweater on no matter how much I begged. She’d only come for tea and then she still wouldn’t eat, just-- just put in three spoons of sugar every time and no milk even though she’s never liked it that way and--”

“Why are you telling me this?” he asks, his voice low and raw. 

“Because you need to know.”

“Why? Are you trying to punish me?”

He tears his gaze from Anna to look at her, and she dares to creep a little closer. In the firelight she can see the purple smudges under his eyes, the stubble shadowing his jaw, the tension coiled tight in every part of him. “She never wanted to leave you. I should have never let her.”

Kristoff shakes his head. “It was her choice. She wanted to do what was right. How could we take that from her?”

“But if she hadn’t--”

“That doesn’t matter. What’s done is done.”

He turns back to Anna, dismissing her. It should be the other way around; she is the queen, and yet she acquiesces, bowing her head and backing away. Just as she reaches the door, he speaks again. “Thank you for writing to me.”

“Thank you for coming.”

She slips out, closing the door behind her. She leans against it for a moment, closing her eyes and trying to regain her sense of balance; she will need it for the long road ahead.


	2. to have and to hold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kristoff falls off the roof and has to learn how to be the one getting taken care of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> set between chapter 22 and 23, after Anna and Kristoff have gotten married.
> 
> Sorry in advance that I'm skipping around chronologically with these drabbles, I PROMISE I will come back and do the wedding and wedding adjacent stuff!!! There were just a couple of moments/themes in the original fic I wanted to circle back to :)

“Olaf? What are you doing over here? And what are you doing with those?”

“Oh, hi, Anna!” the little boy said brightly, waving at her with one of the wooden crutches in his hand. “Kris fell off the roof!”

“ _What?_ ”

“Yeah, he--”

She didn’t wait to hear the rest; she shoved through the gate and ran the rest of the way to the house, her heart slamming against her ribcage. She burst through the door, eyes wild, fearing the worst.

Kristoff was on the sofa, scowling as his grandfather prodded at a nasty bruise on his temple. He jumped at the sound of the door slamming against the wall and took in the sight of her, his frown immediately melting into concern. “Anna, what’s wrong?”

“I-- _Jesus_ \-- what’s wrong with _me_ ?” she panted, darting over to hover nervously beside the old man. “You fell off a _roof_?”

“I’m fine,” he reassured her, though the hiss of pain he let out a moment later when his grandfather moved to examine his shoulder told her he was anything but.

Anna’s knees suddenly felt too weak to support her; she sat down hard on the edge of the sofa. She wanted to ask what had happened, but she could already feel the tears rising and knew if she opened her mouth she wouldn’t be able to hold them in. Kristoff, eyes full of concern, held out his hand, and she took it gladly in both of her own, her fingers trembling against his warm, calloused skin.

“I’m fine, Anna, I promise,” he reassured her softly, but she only shook her head.

The bruise on his left temple was already a nasty shade of blue; its twin spread over his jaw and up towards his ear. His teeth clenched as his grandfather carefully pressed against his shoulder and down his upper arm; Anna followed the movement and looked down the long line of her husband’s frame to see a splint wrapped around his ankle. Something in her chest felt tight and shaky and hollow all at once; she drew his hand up to her lips, pressing a kiss to each knuckle. 

Olaf came in then, whistling cheerily to himself and swinging the crutches without a care in the world. Kristoff, sensing Anna’s confusion, leaned over and murmured in her ear, “It’s just what he does. He doesn’t want you to see him cry.”

“So you’re admitting there’s something to cry about?”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t pull his hand from her grasp. “It looks worse than it is.”

“Objectively, it is pretty bad,” his grandfather said mildly. “You could have broken your neck.”

“But I _didn’t_ ,” Kristoff countered, and the old man let out a little laugh before shaking his head with a sigh.

“It’s my fault, really,” he confessed. “You’ve been telling me for weeks that leak needed looking at. Should have realized it was more than just a little crack in the shingles.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll be back tomorrow to--”

“You most certainly will not,” his grandfather said sternly, cutting him off. “Anna, my dear, do your best to keep him off his feet, will you? And if he insists--”

He motioned towards Olaf, who came over quickly with the crutches. “Let him use these. But only after that shoulder heals up a little.”

She nodded quickly, still having a hard time focusing on anything besides the tense set of Kristoff’s jaw, the glazed look in his eyes. And then they were alone, and he dragged his gaze over to her, managing to give her that crooked smile she loved so much. “I really am okay, Anna, promise.”

“A _roof_ , Kristoff. You fell off a--”

He leaned over and kissed her. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Well--”

“So it’s okay. Anyway, I didn’t finish watering the garden, so I--”

“I’ll do it,” Anna insisted. “And everything else.”

“But you just got home. And I’m sure with those meetings you said you had that you’re--”

“ _No_ ,” she said, as sternly as she could. Kristoff blinked, surprised, and she went on. “You heard your grandfather. I’ll take care of it all, okay? You just sit here and-- and get less bruisey.”

He scowled, looking ready to argue, but she pulled away anyway, whistling as she floated through the house, tidying everything she could keep her hands on and doing her best not to meet Kristoff’s disgruntled gaze as he watched her from the sofa. At last there wasn’t a speck of dust left, and she darted briefly back to him. “I’ll be back in in just a second. _Don’t move_ . Not even an _inch_.”

She was hoping he’d crack a smile, at least, but instead he looked away from her, jaw clenched. Biting her lip, Anna pulled away and slipped outside to the garden, working as quickly as she could among the rows of vegetables, barely even giving the sunflowers a second glance. There was a rare argument brewing, and she wanted to get it over with-- though she still wasn’t quite sure what it was going to be about. Still, maybe there was time to avoid it altogether; that was what she was trying to figure out when she pushed the door open and found, to her surprise, Kristoff standing, leaning heavily on one of the kitchen chairs.

“Kristoff!” Anna gasped, darting over to him. “You’re supposed to--”

“I’m just trying to get dinner ready, Anna, you’ve worked so hard today and I--”

“But you’re _hurt_ , Kristoff, let me--”

“I don’t want to sit around all day just being _useless_ ,” he snapped, and there it was, the storm she was hoping wouldn’t break.

“You’re not _useless_ , you’re hurt, and you need time to recover! Do you think I want to watch you hurt yourself even more?”

“No! But I’m not totally helpless, I don’t want to just sit around and let you do everything for me.”

“But I’m your _wife_ , Kristoff. It’s my job to take care of you when--”

Her breath suddenly caught in her throat. The realization had struck them both at the same time; she knew the guilty expression on Kristoff’s face mirrored her own. She went to his side, putting an arm around his waist, and he hesitantly leaned on her, just a little, letting her help him back to the sofa. He sat down gingerly, and Anna followed, snuggling up against his good side as his arm went around her shoulders, just as it always did.

“Is this really how you feel all the time?” she asked quietly, not daring to meet his eyes just yet.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice so sad she reached down to squeeze his hand. “And you?”

“Yeah.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too.”

She flipped his hand over, gently, and started tracing the lines of his palm, unsure of what to say next. 

“I-- I just keep thinking about-- what if you had-- if that had--” She took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to steady herself, but the tears came anyway. “I could have lost you.”

“Oh, my Anna,” he whispered, curling his arm tighter around her as she sobbed against his shoulder. 

“And I— I hate this, knowing that you’re in pain and I can’t just fix it.”

“I know,” he murmured, resting his forehead against the top of her head. “Believe me.”

“I’m sorry,” she hiccuped. “I wish I was—“

“ _No._ Don’t even think that.”

She peeked up at him, surprised by the determined glint in his eye. “I would give anything to know you were healthy, Anna, to find some kind of cure. But even if you _were_ , that doesn’t mean you’d be okay forever, and the same goes for me. And I don’t have any answers about how either of us is supposed to deal with that, but I do know that if I had died today I would have died knowing how lucky I am to love you.”

“I love you, too,” she said softly, the tears finally beginning to slow. “More than anything. So much I don’t even know how I’m supposed to hold it all sometimes.”

He kissed her forehead, her tear-stained cheeks. She closed her eyes, letting the warmth of him sink in, anchoring herself in the knowledge that he was _here_. “But now here we are, when I’m supposed to be the one taking care of you.”

He winked at her. “We can take care of each other at the same time. That’s what marriage is, anyway, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but right now you’re the one with all the bruises, so you get a little extra.” She kissed his cheek, smiling when he blushed a little. “What do you need?”

“You,” he said, leaning down to kiss her. She allowed it for just a moment before pulling away. 

“You have me,” she teased, eyes sparkling at his little disgruntled huff. “But besides that. I’m serious, Kristoff, what will make you feel better?”

“Besides kissing?”

She gave him her sternest gaze, screwing up her face into a frown, and he burst into laughter. “Alright, alright,” he said, giving in. “It’d be really _, really_ nice to take a bath right now and get the mud out of my hair.”

Anna launched to her feet, already going for the kettle. “I’m on it!”

She drew him a bath as quickly as she could, proud of herself when she was able to drag in the big tin washtub without help, although Kristoff had kept his worried gaze on her the whole time. The ease of bathing was one of the few things she did still miss about palace life; she’d have to see if they could do something about that before long. 

She went to help him get into the tub, but he waved her off. “I can do this part by myself,” he assured her. “I promise. But...thank you.”

Instead she sat in their bedroom, wringing her hands and listening to him undress and ease himself in, each little huff of pain feeling like a knife wound in her heart. Still, she stayed put, knowing what it meant to him to do this on his own, but when she heard him curse under his breath, she couldn’t help but go back in. 

Kristoff was too focused on trying to wash his hair to hear her come in. Whenever he tried to raise his left arm high enough, he let out a little hiss of pain, his hand splashing back down into the water a little more furiously each time.

Anna stepped forward, clearing her throat, and knelt beside the tub until she was at his eye level. “Let me help you. Please.” 

He still wouldn’t meet her gaze, instead staring stoically ahead. She leaned forward, nuzzling the tip of her nose over his cheekbone, pressing a feather-light kiss to his jaw. “Please, honey. It’ll make me feel better.”

He sighed then, turning slowly to press his forehead against hers. She kissed him softly, once, twice. “You know,” she murmured against his lips, “someone told me once that everyone needs help sometimes. And that there’s nothing wrong with that.”

He huffed out a little laugh, finally meeting her eyes. “Where’d you hear a dumb thing like that?”

She kissed him again, her mouth lingering until at last she felt him smile against her, relenting. “Fine,” he mumbled, handing her the bar of soap. “But this is for you, not me. Because I’m fine.”

“Of course.” 

Anna kissed his cheek once more for good measure and scooted to the back of the tub, settling behind him. He’d managed to at least get the ends of his hair damp; she scooped up warm handfuls of water, soaking the rest and delighting in the little goosebumps that rose up on the back of his neck. She ran the soap between her palms, forming a lather, and then paused.

“You’ll tell me if I hit something that hurts, right?”

“Don’t worry. I have a thick skull.”

Still, she was careful as she began working the soap through his hair; he was right, it was full of mud. She worked her way gently through the thick, blond strands, humming a little to herself. When her nails scratched lightly over his scalp, a little noise of contentment escaped him, rumbling from somewhere deep in his chest. Anna had to bite back a laugh; it sounded almost like he was purring. 

“Do you feel better now?” she asked teasingly.

He only nodded, his shoulders relaxing a little more with each pass of her fingers. A little twinge of pride unfurled in her chest at the sight, at the thought that with just her touch she could comfort him like this even in the midst of pain. Her chest filled with warm, renewed fondness for him, for this mountain of a man with the softest heart she’d ever known.

“I broke my arm when I was a little boy,” he said, breaking the silence, and Anna’s fingers slowed in his hair. There was something fragile and faraway in his voice; she could picture him as he would have been, a little boy with a freckled nose he had yet to grow into, shaggy blond hair falling into wide brown eyes that tended towards solemnity too often even then. 

“How did it happen?” she asked softly, leaning forward to look at him.

The corner of his mouth quirked up in the tiniest of smiles. “I fell.”

“Who were you trying to help?”

“Am I that predictable?”

She kissed his unbruised temple. “That wonderful.”

He sighed, his eyes sliding shut as he sank into memory. “A cat. In a tree, the one in the town square. It got down okay, but I just...didn’t.”

He was quiet for a long moment after that, and Anna settled back on her heels again, carefully starting to rinse his hair. When she had first met Kristoff, she had thought he was simply a man of few words; now she knew that his quietness wasn’t so much because he didn’t have anything to say but that he was painstakingly careful in how he said it.

When at last he spoke again, it broke her heart. “I-- I was alone when it happened. And I didn’t really know anyone in town yet-- Mama had just taken me in a couple months before. So I just...walked home.”

He opened his eyes then, looking so vulnerable it almost frightened her. She lowered her fingers from his hair, cradling his face as best she could between her little hands. She let her thumb run slowly over his cheekbone, and he leaned into the caress, seeming to draw courage from it. “I was so worried she’d take one look at me and decide I was more trouble than I was worth and just send me away again...that was all I could think about, not even how much it hurt. But she patched me up and put my arm in a sling and when she was done, she told me how proud she was that I was so brave, that I must be really strong since I hadn’t cried even a little bit.”

Anna bit her lip, and his gaze slid away from her, as if he were ashamed. “I did cry later, in the barn while I was taking care of Sven. But that was the last time. Almost, anyway.” A shadow crossed his face then, and with a pang she realized she had a pretty good idea of what exactly _almost_ meant. 

A long silence followed until Anna ran her thumb over his cheekbone again. “Kristoff.”

His gaze slid unwillingly back to hers. She pursed her lips, trying to think of the right thing to say; she’d never had much of a knack for it, but she knew she had to try-- though first she kissed the tip of his nose, hoping that would make up for whatever nonsense might come out of her mouth. “Thank you for telling me,” she said softly.

He nodded a little, and she forged on. “And it’s okay that you got hurt-- wait, no, it’s _not_ okay, that’s not what I-- what I mean is, well, it’s okay that you need help. You’re not...not strong because of that. And if you want to cry, you don’t have to do it in the barn with Sven. That’s what I’m here for.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “But it’s not that easy.”

“I know. But I want to help you when you need it, if I can. If that’s okay.”

He turned in her gentle grasp, kissing her palm. “It’s okay.”

“Love you. And your hair’s finished.”

“Love you, too. And...thank you.”

He insisted on getting out and dressing by himself, and Anna busied herself emptying the tub, still pondering what he’d told her. It was strange sometimes to realize that, as much as she loved him, as close as they already were, there were still little hidden parts of him to be discovered, a thousand little facets of her husband waiting to be brought to light, and it thrilled her to know she had a lifetime to spend exploring them all. 

She slipped back into the bedroom and found him half-dressed, fumbling with the splint on his ankle. Kristoff glanced up at her with a rueful smile. “I, uh...might need some help. If that’s okay.”

She helped him fasten it quickly, then clambered up to perch beside him on the bed. “Need help with your shirt?”

“It, uh...I’m kind of sore. Just a little, not b--”

Seeing her expression, he let out a faint chuckle. “Okay, more than a little. And I think even with help it might hurt to try and put it on over this shoulder, so...rather not.”

She could imagine why; even in the candlelight she could see the splotchy purple and green bruises that marked his torso, the worst of them staining his shoulder. It pained her just to look at them, to know the only real cure was time. She leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “Okay. Night, honey.”

She started to get up, but Kristoff frowned and caught her arm. “Where are you going?”

“The sofa.”

“Why?”

“Well-- I don’t want to knock into you or something in my sleep. Wouldn’t want to make it worse.”

A lopsided smile spread onto his face. “I seem to recall someone with a broken wrist sneaking into my bed and insisting we both stay.”

He had her there, and besides, she never much liked sleeping apart from him, anyway. And so she stayed, being perhaps a little more careful than normal to keep to her side of the bed, but when she woke up in the middle of the night after heart-pounding dreams of falling and what came after, she felt a gentle brush against her hand; Kristoff, even half-asleep, wanted to let her know it would all be alright.

* * *

Anna woke up before Kristoff for once; she had spent the night curled on her side facing him, while he was splayed out on his back, snoring slightly. That had been one of her favorite discoveries, that both of them snored just a little-- and both had been secretly self-conscious about it the first several nights they’d spent together, until they had both snored loud enough to startle the other into waking at the same time.

She smiled at the memory and leaned down to brush a kiss over his forehead, the same way he always did that still filled her heart with butterflies just like it had the night he’d tucked her in after the summer festival. She slid out of bed and padded over to the wardrobe, pulling on one of his sweaters, a big gray one that hung loosely even on his shoulders and hit her right at the knee, and leaned the crutches against the bed just in case of emergencies before tiptoeing outside to check on Sven. 

When she came back in, Kristoff was waiting for her on the sofa, a crooked, sleepy smile on his face. “You’re up early,” he teased. 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said loftily. “I wake up with the sun.”

“If by ‘the sun’ you mean ‘me telling you you’re already running late’, sure.”

She put on her best grumpy face, but he just laughed and looked so handsome doing it that she couldn’t help but lean down and kiss him. It was nice, really, this Kristoff-having-to-sit thing, because it meant for once _she_ got to be the tall one. 

“Thanks for taking care of me,” he murmured against her lips.

“Of course. For better or for worse, right?”

She gave him one last peck on the cheek and turned away to start making her first pot of tea of the day. He caught her by the hem of her sweater as she moved, tugging gently until she turned to face him. There was something heated in his gaze that sent a slow shiver rolling down her spine, and she found herself going willingly to him, letting him pull her down to straddle his lap.

He pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the juncture of her neck and shoulder, the stubble on his jaw scraping tantalizingly over her collarbone, and she let out a little gasp, her hands going up to press against his chest. “Kristoff-- you’re hurt--”

“So go easy on me,” he said, a wicked gleam in his eye as he began pressing a line of kisses up the column of her throat.

As he reached the underside of her jaw, she slid her hands up to tangle in his hair. He let his head loll back in her grasp; she met his eyes and found them dark with desire. Her mouth met his in a languid, lingering kiss, and he groaned, the sound rumbling through his chest and sending goosebumps over Anna’s skin. He pulled her close against him then and, out of habit, went to stand before falling back against the sofa with a hiss of pain.

Anna pulled away slightly, gently stroking his hair back from his flushed face. “Are you okay?”

“No,” he grumbled, a scowl darkening his expression.

She leaned down and kissed his furrowed brow. “Well, that’s a shame, then, because I was just about to tell you we don’t need to bother with the bed. I think the sofa will do just--”

He captured her mouth again, and she melted against him, unbothered by the interruption. She didn’t need to finish, anyway; it seemed he had the same idea. His hands tugged insistently on her hips, pulling her flush against him as he kissed her greedily. She met him with the same fervor, grateful that they’d given up on his shirt last night as she ran her hands over the broad expanse of his chest, skirting carefully around the bruises on his ribs to settle against his waist, relishing the slight softness there that gave way to hard muscle beneath the gentle press of her fingers. He rolled his hips languorously beneath her, lips traveling back down to her collarbone, and she moaned, feeling him smirk against the crease of her neck. 

“No fair,” she managed to gasp out, fumbling at the waistband of his pants. “I’m supposed to be taking care of _you_.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but only a hot huff of breath escaped him as Anna’s searching fingers found their target, and then his mouth found better things to do, anyway.

Still, later, when they were contentedly sipping their tea, he looked over at her and gave her rumpled hair a teasing tug. “Your turn as soon as my shoulder’s better.”

Anna snuggled against him, smiling when he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I look forward to it.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MEGA shoutout to Johanna (reindeersweaters/jericks3), Gabi (gabiwnomagic), and Jilly (frozenwritingcorner) for helping me struggle through this fic over the last few days!! Thanks for reading the sneak peeks, helping me write all that smoochin', deciding what kind of bathtub they would have, and generally being the most amazing friends possible. Love y'all so so much!!!


	3. first and last

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the start of chapter 15 (aka the first time they did the do) from anna's perspective! as requested by kp/kristoffxannafanatic :)
> 
> this is harder T than the original fic for obvious reasons but still not smut B)

“Couldn’t bother knocking?”

He is bared to the waist, muscles rippling down his broad back as he sets aside his dirtied shirt. She has seen him like this before, drunk her fill of the sight, but now she longs to touch, to feel, to learn every inch of him until she knows that even when she lies awake next to a sleeping stranger she can close her eyes and feel him there with her.

“No,” she whispers, crossing the floor in sure strides until she can slide her hands around his waist, skimming over golden-tanned skin and work-hardened muscle as she pulls him close, until she can press a line of kisses up his spine, letting her tongue dart out just enough to taste the salt of sweat on his skin. By the time she reaches the nape of his neck, she’s on her toes, her palms pressed against the tops of his freckled shoulders to help her stay upright, drunk on the heat of his skin and the sound of his sigh, dragging slow from somewhere deep within him. He turns, and this time when he kisses her it’s different from all the times before, and she is reminded that though he is a gentle man he is a strong one, too, and the thought sends a thrill racing through her as she presses up against him.

He scoops her up, carries her over the threshold to his bedroom as if she were a bride, and  _ oh _ , she wishes that’s what this night was, a celebration of what’s to come instead of a farewell to all the could have beens. When he sits on the edge of the bed, he settles her on his lap, but his hands fall away, waiting for her to make the next little choice, letting her lead. 

She has never belonged to herself in any way that matters, never held her fate in her own hand and said  _ let me do with you what I will.  _ And he has known this somehow, all along, that what she hungers for above all other things is a chance to stand on her own— and yet he has never once let her feel alone. 

It frightens her to know that if he asked her to stay she would, but the fear is not of him; it’s of how deeply she is devoted to him, of how much the separation that will come with the morning will tear at her soul and his both. But he will never ask, would never dream of doing anything that might make her feel caged, not when she has finally gotten a few brief tastes of what it means to be free. 

His eyes are wide and watchful as she turns in his lap, her thighs separating to surround his as she straddles him, her hands pressing against his bare chest. Her fingers curl slightly against the fine coating of hair there, golden in the afternoon light, and she feels his heart speed up beneath her touch. 

She slides her hands down, traces her fingers over his ribs, and the silence breaks as he lets out a laugh and catches her hands. A smile curves over her lips. “Are you ticklish?” she teases, managing to tug her fingers close again to wiggle them over his side. He laughs again, the sound somehow coming easy even in the heavy air, and the words tumble from her just as freely, “I love you so much.”

He stops laughing, just gapes at her for a moment, and his eyes are so soft she wishes she had told him long ago. 

“I love you, too,” he says, and her foolish, useless heart stops beating for just a moment. 

And then it starts again, and she’s leaning forward and so is he and her arms go around his neck and his hands slide down her waist and settle on the top of her hips and her mouth drags over his and he sighs against her and they’re both breathing hard and he pulls away just barely and asks, “What do you want, Anna?”

She kisses him, hard. “This.” Another kiss. “You,” and then another, “ _ everything _ .”

“Anna,” he groans against her mouth, and she catches his lower lip between her teeth for just a brief moment before pulling away. 

His eyes are glazed, cheeks rosy, as he gazes at her in utter adoration, but still he shakes his head just barely. “You’re leaving tomorrow,” he says, each syllable soaked in sorrow. “Are you sure?”

“I want to have this with you,” she says softly, feeling her own cheeks flush. “And if it can’t be only you, then I want...I want it to be you first.”

He presses soft kisses to her cheeks, her chin, the tip of her nose, while his fingers just barely skirt under the hem of her skirt where it’s rucked up around her thighs. “Okay. But we have to be—“

“I know,” she says, cutting him off with a kiss; she is inexperienced but not a fool. 

“I love you,” he murmurs against her mouth. “More than anything.”

“Only you,” she whispers back as his hands slide further under her dress. “Only yours.”

  
  
  
  
  



	4. festival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you anon for sending me a prompt to write about the first harvest festival after the main story :)

_My Anna,_

_I hope Olaf remembered to deliver this to you on time. I wrote it before I left for the mountain; we don’t often get postmen up there._

_I’m sure by now I’m missing you terribly. I’m probably sneaking glances at that photograph we took at the wedding every chance I get and annoying the rest of the harvesters by talking about how my wife is the most beautiful thing in the whole world._

_I wanted to ask you something, though: would you go to the Harvest Festival with me? I still don’t like to dance with anyone but you. I promise to comb my hair and wear the vest you made me if you’ll wear your green dress._

_I love you more than anything. I’ll be home the evening before the festival. I hope you’ll wait up for me; as much as I hate leaving you, the reunions almost make up for it._

_Your loving husband,_

_Kristoff_

“What’s it say?” Olaf demanded, bouncing on his toes, and Anna laughed.

“It’s not for you, silly,” she teased as she took the kettle off the stove and carefully poured the steaming water into two mugs. He’d finally started _actually_ drinking tea with her and not just milk, though like Kristoff he always wanted at least three sugars.

“I know, but I didn’t even peek this time,” he whined. 

“Did you used to peek?” 

“Yeah. You guys made me go back and forth so much I got bored of just walking.”

She let out a huff of surprised laughter. “You little imp!”

“Well-- I don’t do it any _more_.”

“We don’t send letters anymore!”

“Except this one. And I didn’t peek even once.”

Anna sighed as she passed him his tea, relenting. “He asked me to go to the Harvest Festival with him, that’s all.”

“Why would he do that? You’re married, it’s your job to go to stuff with him.”

“It’s _romantic_ , Olaf.”

“Just seems like a waste of ink to me,” he muttered, taking a sip of his tea. “I’m not doing dumb stuff like that when I’m married.”

“We’ll see.”

* * *

Patience had never been one of her virtues, but she hoped God or whoever it was up there would understand why exactly it was _especially_ difficult today. Kristoff had been going for two and a half weeks on his last ice harvesting trip of the year. Normally he went for only a week or less at a time, but when he’d hurt his shoulder and ankle repairing his grandfather’s roof this summer, he’d been out of commission for close to a month and was trying to make up for lost time and coin. “It’s alright,” Anna had reassured him, “I’ll just keep my salary this month, it’ll make up for it.”

It would be more than enough, the payment the Crown gave her for her work as a diplomat. But each month, after setting aside a small amount as savings, she donated the rest back to the kingdom and its people, to the orphanage or to the hospital or to the widows or to anyone else who needed it far more than she did. And so they lived on the money Kristoff made as an ice harvester in summer or as a repairman year-round or as his grandfather’s aide when someone came to the village seeking medical care.

Kristoff prided himself on that, on knowing that each drop of sweat that rolled down his back went towards keeping their house warm, to keeping them both fed and clothed, and she was proud of him, too, for pouring his heart into the work.

But he had insisted on going, and now she missed him terribly, and two and a half weeks was an _awfully_ long time, especially around this time of year when it reminded her of last fall when they had both thought they’d never see each other again, and so she had been pacing for the last half-hour, having already finished every chore that needed to be done and those that were close and those that probably would never need to be done at all.

The sun was just beginning to slide behind the hill when at last a broad-shouldered figure came into view at the end of the road that led to their little cottage, and immediately a smile blossomed on her face. She flew out the door, running as fast as she could without risking harm, and he ran, too, until he caught her around the waist and swept her off her feet, spinning her around and around until she was dizzy and laughing and on the verge of tears of joy.

“I missed you so much,” she managed to gasp out as he lowered her back to the ground.

He kissed her then, his mouth tender and excited and heated and somehow relieved against hers. “I missed you, too,” he murmured, and she melted against him, her hands pressing down on his shoulders as she stood as tall as she could on the tips of her toes to keep her lips pressed to his.

Seeing her efforts, he chuckled and swept her up into his arms, kissing her forehead as he carried her back towards the cottage. “I can walk, you know,” she teased, looping her arms around his neck.

“Yes. But if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather hold you like this.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s all I thought about doing the whole time I was gone. Well-- almost all.”

He kicked the door shut behind him and didn’t set her down until he reached their bed, and then she found out what _almost_ entailed.

* * *

They spent the next day together in each other’s arms even when it didn’t make sense; Kristoff kept his arms wrapped around Anna’s waist as she made their morning tea, and she held his hand tight as they wandered through the waving sunflowers to choose which ones they would cut and bring with them to decorate the tables that night, and both of them kept stopping to kiss each other at every opportunity that presented itself.

Finally, though, it was time to get ready for the festival, and Kristoff half-heartedly attempted to wave Anna off as he sat in front of the mirror and pulled out his razor.

“But you look nice with a beard,” she said, settling her hands on either side of his face. “I like it.”

“It’s not really a beard yet, just a bunch of mess.”

“It’s terribly handsome,” she said sweetly, leaning up to kiss the underside of his jaw and prove her point. “Makes you look very rugged and mountain man-y.”

He chuckled at that and set the razor aside. “You’re very persuasive. I can see how you get all the visiting diplomats to eat right out of your hand.”

“And I don’t even have to kiss them to do it,” she said cheerfully. “You’re a much tougher nut to crack. Maybe you ought to be doing the meetings with me.”

He wrinkled his nose in distaste, and she kissed the tip of it. “Think I’ll stick to my ice, thanks.”

They dressed slowly, pausing between each button and lace to kiss each other, and by the time they were fully clothed they were both rosy-cheeked and wanting, each of them half-considering taking it all back off.

“We shouldn’t,” Anna said regretfully as she slid her hands down the front of Kristoff’s vest, pretending she was doing to so smooth out nonexistant wrinkles. It was the one he had worn at their wedding, the one she had labored over for weeks, embroidering each night for a few stolen moments at a time in order to surprise him. She’d learned from the older women in the village how to do it this way, how to imitate the style the others on the mountain wore, and he had wept when he saw her work-- and wept again when she had walked down the aisle towards him wearing a veil that she had embroidered around the edges in exactly the same way.

It matched the dress she was wearing now-- forest green because that was his favorite, and she had remembered even though he had only told her once. He loved it even more now that he could see how it brought out the copper fire in her hair as it cascaded over her shoulders, unbraided and free, the way he liked it best. The sight of her standing before him, flushed and pretty and smiling so brightly at him, took his breath away, the same way it had over a year ago the first time he had taken her to a festival like this. He wanted to keep her to himself, to celebrate the harvest in their own way; the only decorations they would want for were blooming in their garden, the only music they needed was the wordless melody she would hum in his ear as they waltzed through the living room, and the sweetest wine he would ever taste was the press of her lips against his, somehow always filling him up and still leaving him wanting for more.

But they would be missed if they didn’t go, and so with one final kiss he took her by the hand and led her outside.

* * *

She wasn’t embarrassed not to dance like the others anymore, not now that everyone in the village knew the truth. They had welcomed her with open arms from the start, but now their kindness overflowed as they clapped along with her on the outskirts of the party, or asked for her help in setting out food, or simply sat and kept her company while she waited for the slower music to begin and for Kristoff to set down his lute and come to join her.

To her surprise, though, when the band began to start playing a song she had only heard before in the city below, Kristoff turned to her and beckoned her over with a grin. She went over shyly, and he bowed his head to whisper, “Will you sing this one with me?”

“But I--”

“It’s a duet. It’ll sound funny if I try to do both parts.”

“But I’ve never sung in front of people before.”

“You sing for me all the time.”

“That’s different,” she insisted, flushing, but then he gave her that sweet smile he only ever spent on her and started singing, and how could she do anything but follow along?

When the song ended, her heart was racing as the crowd’s applause swept over her. Exhilarated, she caught Kristoff’s hand in her own. “Was that good?”

“Perfect,” he said, and when he kissed her the crowd only clapped louder.

They all paused then to eat together; she beamed when she saw how quickly the loaves of bread she had slaved over that morning and the bowls of the last of summer’s produce from their garden disappeared. Olaf insisted on sitting beside her, scarfing down food so fast she couldn’t help but laugh and say, “Slow down, you’ll make yourself sick!”

“Grandpapa says the more I’ll eat, the more I’ll grow,” he said around a mouthful of pie. “And that at this rate I’ll be taller than Kristoff.”

Kristoff snorted into his glass beside her, and she set his hand over his where it rested on the bench, squeezing softly. “I don’t know if you’d want that, Olaf. I mean, do you _know_ how often he knocks his head on doorframes?”

This time he didn’t bother to hide his laughter. “Eat all you want, buddy,” he said affectionately to the little boy. “Then Anna will have someone else to bother when she needs help getting something from the top shelf.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” she said drily, and he leaned down to kiss her cheek.

Olaf wrinkled his nose in distaste. “Never mind. I think I lost my appetite.”

* * *

After dinner, when the songs were sweeter and the dances slower, she set her hands on Kristoff’s shoulders while he wrapped his around her waist, and they floated along to the melody together under the light of the moon, contentment settling over them both the way twilight was blanketing the crags of the mountain that rose above it all.

“Can you believe,” Anna asked him softly, “that we get to spend the rest of our lives doing things like this?”

His arms tightened around her, but he didn’t respond; she knew he was thinking of how close they had come to never having another moment like this, how they had gotten so lost from each other and only barely found their way back. She leaned her cheek against his shoulder as their movement slowed further, until they were only barely swaying back and forth. She slid one hand over to settle above his heart, relishing the steady, familiar thrum of it against her palm.

“It’s yours,” Kristoff murmured as she did so. “All of it, forever.”

They stayed that way for a long while, until a yawn escaped him despite his attempts at concealment. Anna tilted her head up to look at him, a smile curling at the corner of her mouth. “You just got back last night. You must be exhausted.”

“We can stay a little longer if you want. I know you’ve been looking forward to this.”

She shook her head. “Not nearly as much as I was looking forward to just having you back at home with me.

They said their goodbyes and drifted homeward together, hand in hand, both of them still wearing besotted, dreamy smiles even as they opened the door and slipped inside. Their clothes came off far more quickly than they had been pulled on, but Kristoff’s yawns were growing more frequent now, and so they both slipped into their nightclothes and settled into bed, lying nose-to-nose beside each other.

Anna let her hand drift up to cup his cheek, letting her fingers trace slowly over the strong line of it before trailing over to his nose, stroking slow, even lines down the bridge of it as his eyelids fluttered shut.

“I don’t want to sleep yet,” he murmured, though he yawned in spite of himself.

“Why not?”

“I don’t want the night to be over.”

She laughed softly and traced her fingertips over his lips before leaning forward to press a soft kiss there. “There’s always tomorrow.”

  
  
  
  
  
  



	5. christmas 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> set partway through chapter 22, when anna is recovering from getting sick + escaping from hans

“Kristoff!”

For a moment he froze in the entryway, stunned at the sight of her; it was the first time she’d left her suite of rooms upstairs since getting sick again. But now here she was, wearing a day dress, with her hair pulled back into two neat braids and not hanging loose over a nightgown, her eyes bright with happiness as she reached towards him with the arm that wasn’t bound in a sling.

“ _Anna_ ,” he breathed before lunging towards her, sweeping her up into a tight hug.

“Missed you, too,” she laughed, leaning up on her toes to brush the tip of her nose against his. “Ooo– your hands are _so_ cold! Come here.”

She caught one of his hands and pressed each fingertip in turn to her lips before kissing his palm. Before she could reach for the second one, Kristoff cradled her cheek with his newly-warmed hand, letting his thumb stroke over her freckled skin.

“You feel better today, then?” he asked hopefully, and she nodded, her smile growing even broader.

“I’ve been helping them decorate for Christmas! Well, mostly just helping make the garlands and picking out which ornaments should go in which spot, but still.”

He grinned and kissed her forehead. “You didn’t finish it all yet, did you?”

“No, why?”

“Because I want to put the star on top of the tree.”

Her eyes sparkled as she reached to take his other hand in hers. “Race you for it?”

He hesitated, not wanting to dull her spirits, but just the moment of silence was enough; her smile fell. “Oh,” she said softly. “Sorry, I guess I forget sometimes that I can do even less stuff now.”

“But you can still do the important stuff,” he hurried to add. “Like putting the star on top. _But_ ,” he went on, wanting to make sure she didn’t feel like he was just handing her a victory out of pity, “I’ll rock paper scissors you for it.”

Her eyes lit up again. “Best of three?”

“Oh, you’re _on_.”

(And if he threw the game for the opportunity to set her on his shoulder and let her place the star herself– well. That was his business.)


End file.
